For kids' safety, stop isolating schools from neighborhoods

Motorists speeding down Narcoossee Road, a six-lane arterial highway, brake to a familiar stop. Red tail lights glowing, they wait in an exasperating 10- to 15-minute queue to turn into the Lake Nona High School campus. To the Florida Highway Patrol's dismay, parents resort to dropping off their kids on the highway. Some kids even run in traffic to get to school.

A teen struck by a motorist passing the queue at 45 mph has a 90 percent chance of dying. Yet Orange County's two decade-old School Siting Ordinance mandates construction of high schools only on our most deadly "high volume" roads, invariably those with many lanes and a high posted speed. Over the past decade, motorists struck and killed more than 500 people walking along these highways, infamously ranking Metro Orlando the third most dangerous in the nation for walking.

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High schools on "high volume" roads seemed sensible in 1996. Sprouting from these highways, county commissioners envisioned cul-de-sac subdivisions from which almost every suburban teenager would drive or ride to school, including for evening football games and concerts. However, by isolating schools from neighborhoods, the School Siting Ordinance created more traffic by requiring more driving, the leading cause of death among teens according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Rick Geller, an attorney with Fishback Dominick, is a board member of Bike/Walk Central Florida. (Courtesy photo) (Courtesy photo)

For parking all those cars — and for ponds to collect storm water running off the asphalt — commissioners decreed that, for each high school, Orange County Public Schools must assemble 65 acres, which is the equivalent of more than 50 football fields. The school system spent tens of millions of tax dollars approved by voters for school construction to acquire land for vast parking lots, some more expansive than the academic buildings.

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For 20 years, high schools with smaller parking lots and tucked into highly desirable neighborhoods, like Winter Park High School or Boone High School, have remained illegal in unincorporated Orange County. County commissioners, who are considering revisions to the School Siting Ordinance in April, have an opportunity to bring back the neighborhood high school. They should not hesitate to allow them.

Neighborhood schools are inherently safer. Slow speeds mean that both motorists and students on foot and bicycle have more time to react and avoid deadly collisions. Although unlikely, a teenager struck by a car on a slow local street would have a 90 percent chance of surviving.

Neighborhood schools can manage traffic more efficiently. Last year, drop-off for my daughter at Winter Park High School typically took 5 minutes, a fraction of the time Lake Nona parents waste. Why? Winter Park's campus has four entry points on a gridded, two-lane street network. Traffic dissipates fairly rapidly on multiple local streets instead of concentrating onto one failing arterial.

A neighborhood school like Winter Park has less traffic overall. Teens lock hundreds of bicycles to long lines of racks. Others wear down sneakers walking to and from school. To take hundreds of cars off roads in this manner requires nearby houses connected to the school on slow, safe streets.

The University of Michigan's Transportation Research Institute reports that less than 25 percent of 16-year-olds have a drivers license — an astonishing decline from past generations. An Urban Land Institute study found that 63 percent of millennials would prefer to live in neighborhoods where they can frequently walk and bike to destinations. A new School Siting Ordinance should reflect these long-term trends and preferences.

A high school can bring pride and renewal to a neighborhood. People want to live near these schools. Families drawn to Winter Park High School, including its International Baccalaureate program, build new houses or fill those once owned by an older generation.

Neighbors may gripe about the traffic. The marching band's drums may thunder in the Friday evening sky. A 10th-grader may even walk across your lawn. Isn't that a small price to pay to keep your kids and grandkids off our most deadly roads?

Rick Geller, an attorney with Fishback Dominick, is a board member of Bike/Walk Central Florida.